


you're the inspiration

by cyandlne



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: 80s Power Ballads, F/M, Gen, Oneshot, it can be whatever you want it to be baby, its both, kind of, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 11:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyandlne/pseuds/cyandlne
Summary: Dee isn't Charlie's babysitter, but someone has to watch him over when he's inebriated and listen to his drunken ramblings.





	you're the inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is my first sunny fic and i literally haven't shipped anyone in this show until The Kiss in "The Gang Misses the Boat" so have this nonsense
> 
> also I listened to "You're the Inspiration" the entire time writing this

     “I’m just saying,” Dennis held up his hands in defense, though clearly on the offensive, indicated by the volume of his voice. “Should vending machines actually take over the world in some kind of freak-robot revolt, you wouldn’t last five minutes!”

 

     “And _I’m_ just saying,” Mac countered, just as loudly. “That’s why my quarters are stashed. I can control them that way.”

 

     “Do you know how many people die because vending machines fall over on them?!” Frank yelled. The three of them spiraled into another fit of overlapping argument, causing Dee to roll her eyes again. She would get involved, if she didn’t think the argument was so utterly dumb, and they seemed to be victimizing each other, not her, which was always good. Charlie would normally be involved in a discussion such as this, not contributing much but nodding at the points he thought were good in order to validate arguments. However, Charlie was currently sitting at the opposite end of the bar, holding his head in his hands. 

 

     “Could you stop, yelling, please?!” Charlie objected suddenly, being louder than any of them. He was drunk and high off of whatever chemicals could be found in the basement that night. The gang was a little shocked at his sudden outburst.

 

     “Oh, shit. The bar’s empty. Maybe we should take this back to our place?” Mac offered.

 

     “My place,” Dee countered.

 

     “Eh, I’m going home. Cha-lee, you coming?” Frank stood and motioned for Charlie to follow him toward the door.

 

     “I can’t move,” Charlie said quietly. “I’ll meet you there later. I’ll be there.”

 

     “I don’t know that I want him getting home by himself,” Frank pouted slightly. 

 

     “Dee? You wanna stay with him?” Dennis pointed a finger at his sister and gave her a patronizing smile. Before she could even protest, he offered another option.     “Or you could listen to Mac and I argue about this whole vending machine thing in the comfort of your own apartment.”

 

     She sighed. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll take him home later.”

 

     “Great. Be sure to lock up.”

 

     “Deeandra, keep Cha-lee safe. Don’t let him leave by himself.”

 

     “Him? What about me? A defenseless woman, with this drunk slowing her down, any man could jump me at any moment -“

 

     “Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeee,” Mac dragged out his vowel as he closed the door.

 

     God damnit. Well. She was stuck here now, and Charlie seemed to be in no mood for any sort of banter or entertainment. She sauntered over to the jukebox and just hit play.

 

     “Some good that’s gonna do, you driving me home. You’re drunk too!” Charlie giggled to himself. Dee didn’t feel like arguing, so she just shrugged and said, “Yeah.”

 

      “Oooh, I couldn't stand those guys another minute. They’re always arguing all the time.” Dee stole the seat next to him. “I think they’re all trying to be the alpha male of the gang. Frank, with his age and money, Dennis, with his good looks and high self esteem, and Mac, with his strength and...gayness, I guess.”

 

     Dee blinked a few times, confused by the ramblings of this drunkard being actually insightful and interesting commentary. She countered playfully, “And you, with your rat stick and sewer knowledge.” 

 

      Charlie snickered like a middle schooler and laid his head on Dee’s shoulder. “Right. Me and my rat stick.”

 

     Dee felt a little bad for invalidating Charlie and reducing him to his rat stick. “A-And your cheese expertise, and your musical talent, and your comfy jacket.”

 

     “You think my jacket is comfy?” Charlie’s words were slurred a little, but Dee could understand it clearly.

 

     “Well, sure. It’s too big for me and it’s really soft.” Dee remembered the moments wearing the jacket - though few and far between, she did really like the jacket, and she knew she looked good in olive.

 

     “Here. Wear it.” Charlie fumbled with his own arms until his jacket was off, and handed it to Dee. She clumsily draped it over her shoulders and let Charlie continue. It was just now that she realized his head was still on her. 

 

     “Dee?”

 

     “Hm? Oh, what?”

 

    “Should I write a sequel to the Nightman?”

 

     “I don’t know.”

 

     “I could call it Nightman 2.”

 

     “You sure could.”

 

     “Yeah. Yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahh,” Charlie’s yeah dissipated into laughter.

 

     They sat in a bit of a peaceful silence until the song on the jukebox played those familiar chords.

 

      _You know our love was meant to be,_

 

     “Oh shit.” Charlie inhaled sharply. “I’m way too high to ignore this song.” He stood, wobbled, then moved near the pool table. “Dee, come dance with me.”

 

     “I thought you couldn’t move.”

 

     “I just didn’t feel like going home. Come on.”

 

     Dee gave a resigned sigh before getting up. She admittedly didn’t feel like dancing either, in fact a nap sounded nice, but she got up anyway and made her way over to Charlie. She swayed to the beat lazily, and he mimicked her motions with a bit of a inebriated stagger. Dee couldn’t help but laugh. She giggled quietly, until Charlie threw himself toward her and hugged her torso tightly.

 

     “Wha - Charlie! Get off of -“

 

     “Just accept it Dee. Just accept it.”

 

     She gave up without much of a fight, and wrapped her arms around him. Charlie started mumbling into her. 

 

     “You’re the meaning in my life, you’re the inspiration...” He sang, off-key and quietly. Dee jumped in for the next line.

 

     “You bring feeling to my life, you’re the inspiration,” They sang together, swaying together, existing together. 

 

     “Oh my God, Dee, you smell so good.” Charlie said quietly, but with passion.

 

     “They don’t call me Sweet Dee for nothing,” She responded with an attempt at a sweet southern twang.

 

     “Don’t do that.”

 

     They were quiet for another minute.

 

     Then, Charlie said something.

 

     After Dee recovered from choking on her own spit, she asked him again. He was drunk, and his words were unintelligible, but she could almost make it out. 

 

     “You think I’m beautiful?”

 

     “Yeah, of course. You’re like one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever met.”

 

     Dee tried to deflect the comment, but her emotions were revealed as she tightened her grip around Charlie. “You haven’t met many women,” She joked.

 

     “I wish you would just let yourself be happy sometimes, Dee,” Charlie remarked in an offhand manner. “But you are really pretty. I think Dennis, Mac, and Frank know it too.”

 

     “They think I look like a bird, Charlie.”

 

     “No they don’t. I don’t neither. Dennis is your brother, an’ he loves you, he sees the potential in you. He knows that if your co-con-confidence gets too high, you’ll soar past all of us an’ you won’t look back. So, in his own, demented way, he shows you he loves you by constantly bringing you down, a’cause he’s too scared to lose you.”

 

     Dee looked to the floor. Dennis was always cruel to her, and she could never justify it, but this softened the blow, a little bit. But Charlie was also drunk out his ass.

 

     “And where Dennis goes, Mac follows, and where Mac goes, Charlie follows, and we’re the gang, and where the gang goes Frank follows.”

 

     “I don’t -“

 

      “Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” Charlie brought a finger to her lips, but it wasn’t a very swift or nice motion. “You talk so much. Just listen.”

 

     Dee hugged him tighter again, and he hugged her back. The music had stopped by now - they still swayed, but in silence.

 

     “I think you’re my best friend, Dee. Sweet Dee. Deeandra.”

 

     “Dee is fine, Charlie.” She laid her head on top of his. 

 

     “You’re so important to me.”

 

     “Me too.”

 

     “...”

 

     “...”

 

     “I think I love you.”

 

     “No, you don’t. You’re drunk. We’re drunk.” Dee was entirely sober.

 

     Charlie seemed to have been regretful of his comment, but pretended he hadn't said it at all. “I don’t mean it like that, ew. I love you like a sister. I’m not, like. In love with you.”

 

    “Well, Frank is your dad and my dad.” 

 

     “Yeah.”

 

     “I love you too, Charlie.” Dee planted a kiss on his head - a lot of his scruffy hair got in her mouth, but she didn’t care. 

 

     He went limp in her arms, and after a quick check to make sure he was still breathing, she determined he was asleep.

 

    She carried him to the pool table (he was surprisingly light), laid him down, and laid his jacket on top of him.

 

    Just as she had grabbed her purse to go leave, she felt guilt fester in her stomach about leaving him here by himself.

 

     She locked the door from the inside, got up on the pool table, and lied with him until she drifted into a soft, gentle, sleep.


End file.
